


Confluence of Humors

by chaya



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Virgin Caduceus Clay, Virgin Jester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 01:10:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16545923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaya/pseuds/chaya
Summary: Caduceus begins to understand he's feeling romantic interest in someone. What he lacks in experience, he makes up for in earnestness.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Can be treated as a follow-up to the fluff in '[Through the Stomach](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15157553/chapters/38312024)'. You can read that little drabble first, if you like, but there's no understanding lost if you don't.

Caduceus puts his winter preparation recipes to good use - the others in the group are delighted in his work, which in turn teaches Caduceus that dried meats and fish prepared for travel are, by and large, only made with salt in the larger world. He buys some heavy paper and folds careful, almost ornamental envelopes to keep leaves and powders dry.

Sage and thyme are easily found at the roadside, but cinnamon is by far Jester’s favorite so far.

**

Caduceus is pairing rosemary and thyme for the cooking pot when Jester comes over to the fire. From the sounds of something heavy dragging limply behind her, Caduceus knows she’s bringing him the felled bird.

“Are you sure we can eat this?” she asks, for the second time.

“I don’t see why not,” he says easily. He leans over from his place in front of the logs, delicately wrapping a hand around its chin and tilting it toward him. The eye has not yet gone milky, but only stares vacantly up to the darkening sky. “Her beak is much closer to a hen’s than anything else I can think of. It’s certainly not a predator.”

“It predatored  _us_ ,” Jester mutters in an undertone, dropping into a cross-legged seat a few feet away from him. Caduceus realizes at once that she means to watch him prepare dinner tonight, and finds himself both overjoyed and disappointed that she is further away than he would like. He has begun to identify these emotions as something other than a desire for closer friendship, although he doesn’t feel secure putting more a more detailed term to it. Especially when people from the city seem to be both very casual and extremely serious when it comes to interpersonal relationships.

The idea of overwhelming Jester with too serious an invitation, or insulting her with too casual a one, are both repugnant to him.

“Yes, she fought us, but I don’t think she was hoping to eat us. I think she just didn’t like the look of us in her territory.” Caduceus shrugs one shoulder - his attempt to soothe her hand fallen on deaf ears, and he is making sure to do her the honor of putting her remains to use. “Do you like any of her feathers?” he asks, turning to Jester suddenly.

Jester blinks, and Caduceus realizes he changed the conversation topic suddenly. “I mean, the little purple and black ones are neat, but they’re all grimy now.” She makes a face at the coverts at the top of the right wing - said wings had been open as she had dragged the body, and now they’re stained with mud.

“I can wash them,” Caduceus reassures her, and she looks very surprised, and then unsure, and then she is giggling, happy, in a different way than when he prepares food that she likes. Rather than being focused and reverent at the meal at hand, she is light and airy, eyes on him instead, and he feels that strange turning in his stomach again.

**

After dinner, and the subsequent compliments to the cook, everyone begins to separate, setting to their individual tasks before it’s time to rest. Caduceus notes an evaluating look from Jester before she wanders toward the cliff’s edge to check on Nott’s healing leg. He is used to scrutiny, but something about the situation makes him sit a little straighter, a little more still, as if he wants to make it easier for Jester to see whatever it is she’s searching for in him.

He takes the opportunity. Putting the rest of the carcass’s remains in a freshly dug hole, he extracts the least damaged covert feathers (the primaries are beyond help, but their color is not as intense as the bows, so maybe it’s best that he doesn’t bother with them). They fit easily in his pocket, and nobody is curious to see him walk toward the stream they passed coming in.

**

It’s not until he’s scraping the pad of his thumb gently up the spine of the first feather, blood and dirt falling away with gentle pressure, that he realizes he has no idea how to present her with a gift.


	2. Chapter 2

“You left these on my bedroll,” Jester says, pulling out a folded piece of her sketch paper. From it, she pulls one of the covert feathers out, spinning it with the quill between thumb and forefinger. Caduceus watches the movement for a few seconds, admiring the color and wondering how to proceed. Funny that he should use feathers to attract someone, he realizes belatedly.

 “I’m not a fletcher,” he admits, “And I’m not sure you’re interested in arrows anyway, so I just. Washed them.”

“You gave them to me as a  _present_ ,” Jester says pointedly, as if correcting him.

It certainly wasn’t in trade, or payment, but Caduceus is fairly sure that she means something about the intent. That it was an overture. “I guess I’m not well versed in, well, how it’s done normally…” So often he’s happy to be a newcomer, to learn things as he goes with the patient help of the smaller folk around him, but now, very strongly, he wishes this had come up in one of those occasional novels that would be left by those visiting the graves of their ancestors. “I think sometimes the person feels obligated to give the gift back, if they aren’t interested, and if that’s the case, you should feel free to keep them.”

Jester doesn’t respond at first, and the silence between them is interrupted by a scuffle up the inn’s stairs, down the hall, past their door. Caduceus listens to it, eyes tracking the noise, and guesses it’s the human and the half elf who were bickering over spiced ales. They seemed the type of friends to argue and fight and forgive in the space of a few breaths. Nothing to worry over.

“Caduceus,” Jester says, and her voice is different, lilting, like the gentle bend of the feather between the pads of her fingers.

“Yes,” he says, turning to put his attention back on her. It’s easy to do so, and pleasant, although he’s started to notice he’s having problems focusing  _too_  much on her. There are little details like the points of her upper canines, the light dots of freckles on her cheekbones and nose -

“Where you come from, in the forest, what exactly does it mean when you give someone a bunch of pretty feathers?”

“Nothing,” he answers immediately, happy for an easy question, and then divines her meaning. “I just, I wanted to give you something that you might like, I guess.” Her eyes soften on him and he feels a part of him melt, and more quietly, he adds, “It’s very nice to see you when you’re happy.”

Those pointed teeth are working gently over her lower lip, the way they do when she’s thinking. “Caduceus, do you want me to kiss you?”

He wasn’t expecting that. “I think so,” he confirms, and sits up a little straighter on the too-small bed. When she moves toward him and then stops suddenly, he feels his stomach sink, but she’s pinching the feather and carefully slotting it back into the folded paper, and then tucking the paper back into her haversack, which she sets down.

“There,” she says with some finality, and she smooths out the front of her skirt, then the trailing loose ends of her hair, before stepping in between his feet, hands on his knees, leaning in just enough to kiss the corner of his mouth.

His skin feels like it’s vibrating as soon as she’s close, and when her lips press against the smooth skin near his mouth it’s almost over before it started, exhilarating and leaving the ghost of the experience in its wake. He blinks several times, lifting his fingertips and stroking them along the kissed spot to see if there is indeed anything there.

Jester is giggling, hands off of him now but still between his legs,  _close_. “Did you like it?” she asks patiently.

Perhaps it’s very clear that he’s not experienced in this. It doesn’t seem to upset her, though, so he sees no reason to be upset. “Very much,” he says, and holds still as she reaches a hand up, slowly, to nudge the curtain of pink hair a little further back, then behind his ear. When she sees that he’s allowing the touch, the little change, her grin widens, and he can’t help but grin back. Perhaps a little goofily. Her hand lingers, fingertips tracing along the lines of his ear, and he allows this too, only moving in a bit closer to invite her to continue as she pleases.

“It’s soft,” Jester compliments, and Caduceus feels her thumb and forefinger take his ear between them, much more gently than the feather, and rub. He feels his cheeks darken a little at the attention, and his fingers curl against the homespun fabric of the inn bed’s blanket. He’s not sure where he would like to touch her, or if at all - right now the experience of… being  _experienced_  is quite a lot, and Jester seems to be enjoying it enormously. He wants to dedicate all his focus into seeing her enjoyment. “Can I, um,” her lips press together and she’s looking at his mouth.

Caduceus nods, leaning in a little to initiate this time, but he loses his nerve halfway through, and she meets him halfway instead, lips on his this time and lingering, soft and warm, and he doesn’t notice she’s let go of his ear until he feels her fingers soft along the column of his neck, and something about the touch sends a strange flicker of lightning through him, making him tremble, pushing closer to her.

Jester’s beaming as she pulls back, tongue wetting her lips as she looks over his face several times. “Do you think you want to try having sex?”

 


	3. Chapter 3

Caduceus stares at her for a long moment - the thought hadn’t occurred to him, but it was a natural question, now that it was in front of him. Kissing often wasn’t an activity done in isolation. It was very often the  _beginning_ of a longer and more complex journey.

“I don’t know,” he replies.

It's almost as soon as this was out of his mouth that he realizes what a mistake this might be to say. She might feel the rejection personally, unaware of what he was pretty sure were his unusual feelings on the subject. Caleb was not a good indicator of humans, he knew, who often had a very healthy appetite for physical relations, and half orcs and tieflings by reputation were only more so. There was no reason for Jester to know that  _his_ kind were often a bit slower to develop such urges toward someone, or that he -

“Okay,” she says, cutting through his tangle of thoughts. She lets go of him, leaving a strangely tingling sensation where her fingers had been on his neck, and as he scans her face he does not, thankfully, see any serious upset. She seems to be thoughtful instead. “Well, I liked the kissing, and I think you did too, so we could just keep doing that, and, you know. If you feel like you want to do  _new_  things, I’ll wait for you. Just, ‘Jester, I’d like to try sex I think,’ or, before that, ‘Jester, let’s try getting  _naked_ ,’“

Something about the sensible nature of it, combined with her sing-song voice being so matter of fact, makes him erupt in soft laughter. Perhaps it's a release of tension. “That makes a lot of sense,” he agrees, and smiles wider when the apples of her cheeks rise in pride.

“And,” she adds suddenly, holding up a finger, “if you  _don’t_ like something, you say so too. ‘Jester, I would like to stop kissing now.’ Or, ‘Jester, don’t play with my ears anymore.’“

“But you like my ears,” Caduceus says, fully serious and already frowning at the hypothetical of taking that pleasure away from her, and before he can say anything else, she’s giggling again and pressing her body up against his, the warmth and soft curves lost against his armor, but the pressure exhilarating nonetheless as she kisses him again, hugging him, and he has to hold very still and experience it for a few moments before calculating that he can put his arms around her, too, this soft and delightful person, and she squeezes him just a little tighter as soon as she feels his embrace.

Jester pulls back a few inches, breathing softly through her nose, before her eyes close again, and her lips graze gently against his. Something about the lightness and quickness of it makes it just as good as the longer kiss, and he allows himself the curiosity of opening his hands against her back, palms flat against the fabric of her blouse.

“Where’s your armor?” Caduceus asks when they break away again, looking her up and down as much as he can without putting any unnecessary distance between them.

“I left it in my room, dummy.” She gives him a secretive look, and he thinks back to what she said earlier - naked - and he understands now that while she probably didn’t  _know_  that they would be touching each other at some point, she knew it was a possibility.

“Is it alright to press up against mine?” He pulls one hand away from her, drifting over the leather strap at the side of his chest piece, and when he sees the tips of her ears perk up in excitement and interest, he doesn’t wait for her to answer, just begins fiddling the piece off with strangely shaking hands. “Sorry,” he says, unsure of what’s got him in this state, and when she helps him take it off and on to the floor, the shoulder piece and forearm guard coming off a bit easier, he certainly feels more exposed. The way she’s looking at him is very strange but thrilling at the same time. “Would you do it again?”

“Do what?” she says, already back between his legs, inches away.

Caduceus thinks back to her instructions earlier. “Jester, I’d like you to press up against me like before.” And gloriously it’s that simple, because she smiles and moves toward him until her shins are up against the edge of the bed, pressed up to him from belly to chest, and now he can feel the soft warmth and curves of her through his thin shirt, and the little lightning sparks from before have gathered together in a sudden and undeniable bolt through his spine.

It feels  _wonderful_ to have her close. He takes in a shaky breath and blinks into the middle distance as her lips peck gently at his cheek, his jaw, the corner of his mouth again, and then it feels very important that he respond, that he say ‘thank you’ in kind, and so he tilts his head down to kiss  _her_  cheek, being quick as she’s also moving her face, and now she holds still, smiling, eyes closing again as he mirrors her kisses, dots a few extra, entranced by the soft cheek under his lips, the new dark azure tones rising up from beneath the surface.

“Your cheek is very pretty,” he intones, and kisses it again, once more, but as her smile widens he becomes aware that her lips are darker, also, and a bit shiny from how she has licked them here and there, and that is his new focus. He lays his hand carefully along the column of her neck, much smaller in his hand, and he is sure to be gentle and tender with this new territory as he kisses her mouth. She trembles a little. He wonders if she feels the same strange thing he did moments before.

“Mmm,” she says, and through the insistent and strained nature of how she says it, Caduceus can guess that she  _does_  feel the same strange urgency he does, and that she wants to continue. He draws his lips back and kisses her again, once more, and when her arms slide up between them and loop around his shoulders, fingers tangling in his hair and then stroking up the nape of his neck, another shudder runs through him. His desire to have her closer is intensifying.

“Can-” He pulls back from her mouth, out of air already, and loses track of his thought for a moment when her nails drag against his scalp. “Oh.”

“That’s good?” She asks, a strange depth in her voice that wasn’t there. He wants to hear more of it.

“Yes, please.” He bends his head down, forehead to hers, to make it easier for her to reach, and he bites his lip and allows himself the question: “Can I pull you closer to me?”

“Huh?” Jester blinks at him, eyes wide and pupils dark, and begins looking to him, seated on the bed, and her, and when she gives the side of his leg a friendly whack as she steps back, he accommodates her, his legs almost together now, and instantly she is pushing him back, no longer on the edge of the bed but as far back as he can sit, and he is sad to do as she asks until she realizes that she’s coming after him, knees on the bedspread and on either side of his lap.

“Oh,” he says, understanding now.

“I think this is better,” Jester says happily, at eye level now and fingers back in his hair. Her hands pause. “ _Is_  it better?”

“I like this,” Caduceus says with enthusiasm, and when she lets out a happy squeal and knees closer, flush against his chest again, that urgency comes back to his body, heart rabbiting against his ribs and hands itching to be on her again. He allows them on the small of her back, which immediately has her wiggling in a happy way, closer, and the warm press of her breasts becomes more insistent as she ducks her head down, under his jaw, and begins to press kisses to his neck.

He doesn’t say a word, exactly - he meant to say ‘oh’ again but it came out as more of just a sound, an escaped breath, as the place where her fingers drew so much sensitivity up to the surface is now alight. His hands tighten a little around her waist, and in answer she presses herself closer to him. His trousers are beginning to become uncomfortable, a problem he doesn’t know how to address, but perhaps it’s not a  _problem_ , it’s part of a journey they might go on, and so he puts it out of his mind for now and tilts his head a little, hopefully, as the curtain of his hair falls further back and exposes more of his neck to her.

“You’re so warm,” she murmurs. He looks down the line of her back to her generously proportioned hips, the lovely sway of her tail, her boots dangling off the edge of the bed, and strokes his thumbs against the fabric of her skirt.

“Is it nice?” he asks. “You feel warm too, it’s great.”

“It  _is_ ,” she agrees, and pulls back enough to capture him in a kiss, the sensation lovely and familiar now, a known pleasure, and when she opens her mouth and swipes her tongue across his closed lips, everything is suddenly heightened further, and he lifts his hands to cup her face, firm while still being gentle, kissing her more insistently than before and then opening his mouth slightly to try to return what she did. Her hands lower and clutch in the fabric of his shirt, tightening the fabric at the nape of his neck a little as she pulls. Maybe she wants him to take it off? It’s hard to know for sure, but he doesn’t feel opposed to it, seeing as how feeling her more clearly without the armor made such a difference, and she seemed to be equally happy with the change. He imagines her reciprocating, removing her clothing, and his erection is more insistent now as he traces the shape of her lower lip with the edge of his tongue. “Ca.. Caduceus?”

“Yes?” he holds still, just in case.

“Not to be pushy, but um,” those little points of her teeth drag against her lip again, right where his tongue had been, and he feels entranced by it. “Do you feel, um, like you maybe wanna try more things?”

“I think I do,” Caduceus says, swallowing, thinking of his erection, of his excitement at getting to see more of her,  _certainly_  of continuing to be close to her. “Do, um, do you mind letting me know what you’d like to do? I like everything we’ve done, but I’m just. Not sure of the best way…”

“I’ve read a  _lot_ ,” Jester says reassuringly.

Caduceus nods, watching her as she unbuttons her blouse, and when she looks up at him with a cautious sort of hopefulness, he is happy to nudge his fingers between the blouse and the soft white shirt underneath, flimsy and intimate, and as he tugs and gathers some of  _that_  fabric in his hand, she allows it, breathing a little shallower, and so he tugs and gathers until his knuckles brush against the warm bare skin of her stomach.

“It’s so nice,” he says wonderingly, and splays his hand across the expanse of the curve of it, her lower ribs, nuzzling against her cheek and down her neck again. The smell of her seems so much stronger than it did when she walked in, and there’s a new warm saltiness to it, something deep and yearning that makes him shudder. Her skin feels like it’s feverish hot and he kisses her, several times, over and over until both his hands are worked up under the clothes and tracing over the muscles of her back.

She wriggles a little, giving him a quick peck to tell him that all’s well, and then she’s leaning back into his hands - it feels so pleasant to hold the weight of her - and she’s pulling both the blouse and the flimsy shirt up and over her head, baring herself to him. Her hair has fallen out of its braids somewhat, drifting against her lightly freckled shoulders, and the muscle underneath her fat makes a beautiful series of landscapes, gentle valleys and hills, a slightly paler blue even in her flushed state.

She’s looking up at him expectantly, and he’s at sea for a moment before he realizes that she’s waiting for him to respond. He pulls his right leg up, using his calf as a brace against her back to keep her secure while he leans back to pull everything up over his head, cast to the side, eyes back on her face to see if this was the right step. He’s still not sure if it was, but she’s interested, happy to look at him, although a small scowl crosses her lips.

“All that cooking, and you’re too skinny,” she says. It’s a light grousing, not intended to insult him rather but to state her concern.

“I’m perfectly well,” he assures her, and she seems to acquiesce a little. When his hands come back to the bare skin of her back, it’s now hard not to let them wander further, across those freckled shoulders, her arms, and, after she pushes her shoulders back and looks to the side in what he can tell is a  _pointedly_ casual manner, her breasts.

He blushes hotly to do it, but she seems happy by the attention, and after the first drift of his fingertips he finds himself interested in more, in tracing their shape and the soft dusky blue grey points. She shivers and grabs his hand, encouraging it to close further, and so he squeezes as gently as he can. Her hand doesn’t let go of his, still pressing, and so he guesses that she knows that she wants this but can’t find herself to specifically ask. He presses harder, cupping one and squeezing a little more firmly, as he might take himself in hand, and her reaction is immediate, draping over him and pressing her forehead to his shoulder and breathing louder.

“You can tell me what to do, and I’ll do it,” he reassures, and brings his other hand to her other breast, doing the same. Kneading them in this gentle way is stoking him further, now that he’s past his own embarrassment and is sure that she likes it. Her left hand comes to his shoulder, as if for balance, while the other traces over the ridges of his ribs, the inward curve of his stomach, the light dusting of fur.

“I want to tell you to do  _a lot_  of things,” she confesses huskily.

“I can probably only do some of them, but I’ll try.”

She laughs and grabs his jaw for another kiss, deeper, and her tongue licks across his lips and then into his mouth as she moves his hands to her hips and lowers herself down, bending his neck, only to brush the crux of herself against his lap and make him almost jump out of his own body.

“ _Oh_ ,” he says, a little alarmed.

“I’m sorry,” Jester breathes, back up on her knees a few inches and looking over his face, “We don’t have to do that.”

“That was,” and Caduceus can’t quite find the words for it, having known intellectually that such a thing must feel nice but never having - never having another person -

Jester looks a little miserable now, her flush across her cheeks changing as she looks to the door. “I’m sorry, I got excited, I didn’t mean to-”

“I’d like to do it more,” he interrupts.

She looks at him suspiciously at first, as if maybe he’s indulging her, but he knows that he’s almost trembling with a desire to resume what they were doing, to - to get wherever they were  _traveling_  to, and it must be written all over his face. She seems a little embarrassed for having been the more forward one, so he makes a point to hold her tightly by the hip, to let his other hand roam across her chest, brushing against her nipples and fascinated when her eyes flutter shut in response. They go quiet, his fingers careful and exploratory on her while she bites her lip, and then slowly she is lowering herself down again, as she did before, and this time when the warmth of her skin through her clothes brushes against the bulge of his erection, he’s not so surprised, and the remaining sensations are a deep pleasure and a desire for more. He squeezes her breast in the way she seemed to enjoy best, and she lets herself press a little more firmly, making him gasp and let out a small, guttural sound as she moves back and forth overtop him.

“I like it a lot,” he says, desperate to curb a future misunderstanding now.

“It’s  _really_  good,” Jester gasps, and begins fiddling with the clasps of her skirt. He doesn’t understand the fastenings, so he can’t help her, only watching and palming her chest more, slowly, until the skirt is unwrapped from around her waist, falling away, and then she grabs a small lace bow at the side of the fanciest smallclothes he has ever seen, mint green and with lace, and they fall away completely, leaving her just in her boots.

“Yes,” he says, completely without further language, and when she takes his right hand from her breast and guides it gently down between her legs, only about halfway, he’s eager to continue with her suggestion, lightly touching her opening with one long finger, then two, tracing the shape of it blindly and astounded by the heat and wetness of it while she seems to almost instantly collapse against him, melting and wound tight all at once. “I can’t-” With his arm wedged between them, it’s difficult to know what he’s doing, and he’s desperate to touch her softly, at least in the beginnings. “Can I turn you around?”

“What?”

“So you can lay against my chest, and I can reach better.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Oh,” Jester says, looking between them, and nods. He’s shaking a little as he lifts her, but it’s not too difficult, arranging her bent calves on either side of his thighs, now feeling the backs of her horns brushing against his collarbones.

As soon as he lets go of her hips, she’s wriggling closer, deciding if she likes this position. The movement causes her tail and backside to brush firmly against his erection, and he hadn’t realized that if they stayed close like this, he would still be so stimulated. He bites his lip, reaching down and curling careful fingers around her inner thighs, pulling her back against him. She seems to understand why he does it, and he shudders with the feeling. When he lets go of her, she repeats the action without him, the swell of her ass delicious and firm against his breeches.

“That’s, um,” Caduceus feels himself getting more excited, as he does in the few times he touches himself. He knows he is close to his end and is fairly sure it’s not polite to stop what you were doing for someone else to find your own release. “That’s maybe  _too_ nice,” he says, warning a little, and she seems to understand instantly, and stops.

“Do you not like it, or do you just not want to get off yet?” she asks. When she tilts her head back and looks up at him through her lashes to assess him, she’s beautiful, flushed and in a perfect sort of disarray. He wraps a hand around her waist, holding her close.

“The second one,” he says confidently. “I’d like to… get off… but right now, I want to do this.” Only slightly nervous, he slides his right hand down her side, feeling the anticipation in taut muscles under warm flesh. He tips his head a little further down, nuzzling the spot where her horn begins, happy to find that the same little physical gestures that calm a wild animal make her more relaxed and pliant in his arms. When his fingertips finally begin to move back to the seam of her, she’s breathing more surely, looking forward to it but not quite so nervous.

Through the soft nest of hairs, he drags the pad of his thumb down over her, collecting some of her moisture, sweeping it back and forth lightly until she begins to squirm with some feeling of it not being sufficient. He brings his forefinger down, more as he touched her before, pressing gently into that impossibly soft, warm wetness just far enough for her to gasp and tighten.

He expected to penetrate her before getting such a reaction, but he’s only just brushing at her opening, not really inside. Experimentally, he nudges his fingertip back and forth, not pushing further, and she arches and presses more needfully against his body while trying to keep her hips still. So, there’s something to be done before moving further. A detour, which she enjoys.

Caduceus brings more fingers down, tucking carefully between her thighs, exploring and looking down the length of her body to see what she prefers. She seems, to his inexperienced eye, to like  _everything_  - he rocks the length of his fingers back and forth over her opening, and she gasps, and when he blindly feels out the hood of her clitoris, knowing at least of it from medical texts if not personal experience, she bucks into his hand and rocks against it, if only briefly.

“Caduceus,” she says meaningfully, and the urgency in her voice seems to indicate that they haven’t… traveled enough. She wants to make more progress.

“Alright,” he says softly to her, and dips his first two fingertips in to her just a tiny bit. The opening is smaller than he expected, giving way but with some stretch, and so he pulls back and comes back with just his forefinger, astonished at how much wetness surrounds it, sliding it in until he begins to feel the resistance of her inner walls. Biting his lip, he feels his hips roll forward of their own accord, against the firmness of the base of her tail, and she makes a quiet moaning sound that makes him understand her instantly. It is good, but not enough. He draws his finger out slightly, wondering at the different textures against his hand as he moves with care, and brings his second finger back in, pushing past that light resistance and back into her core.

“Yeah,” she says, and one of her hands snaps out to grip his wrist, holding him in place with surprising strength so she can rock against the stimulation more easily. Her rhythm is very different from his, and maybe that was part of the problem, or at least part of what she’d prefer. After a few minutes of watching her move, he feels a bead of sweat trickle to his cheek, the strange racing-heart feeling of sitting still with another person, and lifts his free hand to brush against her nipples, knead at her breasts, while his captured hand moves against her to try and match and answer her movements.

It seems to work. She begins breathing faster, shoulders now pressed hotly against his upper chest as her body bows out, letting go of his wrist and allowing him to pull slightly out of her, and letting his palm drag against the hood, as she seemed to have been doing to herself moments before. When she pushes more insistently against him, he gathers her closer across her ribs and rubs against her more firmly, insistently, increasing his pace as he would do with himself alone.

“ _Caduceus._ ” He can feel her tail trapped between them, fretting very suddenly, and he takes this as a sign with the tone of her voice that these changes are good. He pants and nuzzles into her hair, not looking now, just feeling out what her body seems to want, feeling his skin go alight with buzzing energy as she squirms, cries out, bows further, and finally stills, holding a soft and faltering note as he presses more deeply into her, keeps his palm firmly against her outer tenderness, and along his fingers he can feel those strange wonderful plush walls within her twitching and gripping him in time, holding him still as she had his wrist, taking what they need from him before finally going lax.

Her whole body, against him, is lax. The bar of his left forearm is supporting more of her weight, which he is happy to do, and when he slowly withdraws from her, his fingers come away with the most wonderful scent, damp and musky. As she rests in the aftershocks of her pleasure, he brings the hand up to his nose, entranced, finally tasting the pad of his finger and feeling a responding tremble run through his body.

“Are you licking me off your fingers?” she asks beneath him, quietly.

He works his lips between his teeth. “Do you mind if I do?”

Jester snickers, tilting her head back to look up at him. There are damp curls of her bangs stuck to her forehead. “It’s hot,” she replies, and he smiles back down at her.

“Then, yes,” Caduceus says.

Jester watches him lick his hand clean, chasing after the last of her taste with no particular hurry. His erection continues to ache against the base of her tail, against the constraints of his trousers, but he sees no reason to bring it up when she can surely feel it herself. When she is ready to touch him somehow, she will. If she decides she’d rather not, he can take himself in hand after she goes back to her room, and that will be more of an incredible experience… and subsequent orgasm… than he ever could have guessed to get tonight.

“You’re always thinking,” Jester murmurs, accusing.

Caduceus looks back down at her, tongue still at the webbing between thumb and forefinger. “If you’d prefer I be doing something, you only have to ask.” He loosens his grip on her torso slightly, but she doesn’t move away; in fact, she presses closer, the sweat up her side sticking pleasantly to the trail of fur near his navel.

“You should lie down, so I can take  _care_  of you,” Jester says with a pointed lilt in her voice. Caduceus does so, but opts to take Jester with him, leaning back and turning to recline long-ways on the bed with his shins dangling off the edge. Jester giggles, allowing herself to be tugged along, and squirms in his lap until she’s straddling his stomach and hovering over him. Caduceus looks down between their bodies - her breasts hang down, nipples brushing against the fur on his chest. Past them, he can see the faint blur of her tail swishing lazily back and forth. “You made me feel  _reeally_  good, so I wanna know what  _you’d_  like.” She dots his mouth with a brief kiss, smiling, then indulges herself in one more, a second, finally a third.

“I don’t-” a fourth. “Know,” he admits to her. “I’m very hard, so whatever we do, I’d like it if I could get my breeches off.”

Jester’s smile is all mischief as she scoots down, settling on his thighs, unlacing slowly and beginning to tug the hem of his trousers down. He lifts his hips a little, realizing it will help, distracted by her expression. She looks like she’s opening a present, and Caduceus didn’t anticipate this part of him being so uniquely interesting to her.

(Maybe she thinks firbolgs have something special to their genitalia? Other than the proportional size difference, and the fur in place of hair, he can’t think of anything significant.)

“Ohhh,” Jester intones, mouth falling open a little as the root of his cock becomes exposed. She pulls his clothes down further, a little faster, until his entire length is free and smacks briefly against the hollow of his stomach. Caduceus looks down at it, not surprised by the smear of pre-come that had the head stuck to his smallclothes. It’s more flushed with blood than he’s ever seen it, rigid and full of that lightning energy feeling, that desperation to be touched.

“I hope you think it’s all right,” Caduceus says, a little anxiously. He can’t quite make heads or tails of her expression.

“It’s…” She trails off. Her eyes flicker up to his, noticing his concern. “It’s  _good_ ,” she reassures, fingers still curled around the hem of his trousers. “It’s… it’s  _big_.”

Caduceus strains to think back to what he’s heard. Obviously penetrative sex can be uncomfortable if the phallus is too large, but he’s sure he’s also heard something about jaw ache… if someone uses their mouth… “You don’t have to use your mouth,” he says hurriedly. “Or. Or do anything. I can take care of it.”

“Nuh-uh,” Jester says, yanking his clothing down past his thighs and shimmying determinedly until she’s hovering over his erection. “I wanna try. I can always just switch to my hands if I can’t-” She stops, looking up at him again. “You do want me to, right?”

“ _Yes_.”

Jester seems surprised by his intensity and sincerity, and she breaks out in one of her patent smiles, pointed teeth out and tail curling beautifully behind her. “Good!” She leans on one elbow, using her other hand to carefully take him by the root. When her thumb and fingers don’t quite meet around his girth, she seems surprised, but to Caduceus’s great relief she doesn’t seem to be upset by it. Instead, she begins stroking him.

She seems… fascinated by the texture of him, how the skin shifts over the firmness, and as she strokes and tugs in careful experimental touches, she watches his foreskin slide back, exposing the head slightly, then more. He makes a small, desperate sound in the back of his throat and watches a new bead of precome bloom from the tip.

Jester is licking her lips.

“I forgot,” she mumbles, and takes her hand away. Caduceus takes a calming breath and fights down an urge for her to return to what she was doing, or try something new, to make her understand that he’s close as she was before. But she’s swiping the palm of her hand over her mouth, wetting it with spit, and when her hand takes him again it’s  _slick_  and  _warmer_  and Caduceus keens with it, hips rising off the bed. She  _does_ understand, she  _isn’t_  stopping, hand moving faster on him now and making him clutch at the sheets.

“J-” He bites his lip and focuses on pushing back the tide in his mind, in his body, at the very core of him that threatens to wash over him and let it end too soon. He doesn’t want it to end at all, in this moment - the precipice is beautiful and warm and he can still taste Jester on his tongue, can feel her weight on his legs, pinning him there, in this moment.

“I’m gonna try,” Jester announces, and Caduceus isn’t sure what that means until he peeks down and sees her bending over, holding his cock still now so she can lick the wetness off the tip. Her tongue feels perfect, just the right amount of warmth and wetness and pressure, like those inner walls he explored moments before. She opens her mouth wider, fitting most of the head into her mouth in an incredible moment of tightness and pressure, before pulling back and frowning and licking him again. Along his slit, around the head, and he lets out another keening sound and feels the tide rise and rise until it puts him in utter shadow.

His body lifts as hers had, so much more forcefully than when he’s attended to himself, and he feels an incredible thrill run through his body, his muscles, thrumming in his bones, as he spends himself and lets out a small cry. He can distantly feel her grip on his hips, her mouth on him again, just encircling the tip, giving him further overwhelming shocks of stimulation as his seed comes out in thick, heavy spurts.

Slowly, the tide ebbs away again. He is left with sweat and no breath, staring at the ceiling, panting until his lungs feel full again.

“You okay?” Jester says, poking his belly.

He looks down at her in wonder. “Yes,” he says slowly, not sure how she could have to wonder.

She’s dragging her teeth along her bottom lip, wiping at her mouth. “You came a lot, but you kinda sounded like you were hurting. I just wanted to be sure.”

Caduceus realizes as he props himself on his elbows that he cannot see any ejaculate anywhere, and that she must have swallowed it all. Indeed, there’s a droplet on her lip, just missed by her fang. He curls his body inward so he can reach, cupping her jaw gently and running the edge of his thumb along it to clean her.

“I liked it more than I ever would have expected,” Caduceus breathes. “It felt wonderful. Thank you.”

Her light concern is instantly washed away, and she smiles at him, capturing his retreating thumb with her mouth and sucking it clean. Seeing her do this, feeling it, causes a ghost of the previous thrum within his spine. He flushes and smiles.

“I liked it too,” Jester adds, seeming to realize she should respond in kind. “I like being with you a lot.”

Caduceus can feel his cheeks starting to hurt. He’s smiled so much since she walked in. “Are you cold?”

“Hm? No.”

“Would you like to lie together with me for a while? I think I’d like to.”

“Can I lay on  _top_  of you?” Jester asks, and Caduceus can tell she is very much hoping he’ll say yes.

“That sounds nice.”

The tips of her ears twitch up in happiness. Caduceus notices, as he always does, and his smile becomes wider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://ivadeshin.tumblr.com/).


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